


The Other Malfoy

by clarkedarling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Good Draco Malfoy, Malfoy Family, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Next Generation, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-05-21 03:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkedarling/pseuds/clarkedarling
Summary: Cassiopeia Malfoy has always been a secret. Hidden away from the world, she had never wanted anything more than to be a normal girl. Wanted to be something more than her name. James Potter II was anything but a secret. With a father known around the world, and a mother equally as popular, he grew up with expectations to uphold. He wanted to be somebody other than his name.





	1. the unwelcome birth

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is just something i've wanted to write for like the last two years, and hopefully i'm going to get to the end. i have so many good (in my opinion?) ideas for this, which i hope you'll all like.
> 
> let me know what you think in the comments, i appreciate all feedback!
> 
> thanks!

* * *

_11th of August, 2004  
Ellesmere, Shropshire, U.K._

A slender man, with hollow cheeks and icy blonde hair that spilled over his shoulders, strands of grey more prominent than ever, paced back and forth in the narrow corridor, wringing his hands together with exasperation. Under his breath he muttered things to himself with a sharp tongue, a feature which only made him look eerily like a snake, along with his oily skin and almost venomous looking silver eyes. He was clothed in what appeared to be finely crafted rags, which told of a man who once had been distinguished and powerful. Now, much like his features, they had diminished in grandeur.

His wife’s screams echoed around the small, matchbox house, but the man seemed to have more pressing things on his mind. For instance, his son had come to him a mere month ago, with complaints of a pain in his forearm. Dismissing it as paranoia, the man thought nothing more of it. Until yesterday that is.

Dark Marks were as rare as rare can be nowadays, especially since the Dark Lord’s defeat just over six years ago. Most of his comrades had been imprisoned, or killed, or, like him, fled. Lucius was no longer a wanted man, due to evidence he gave that his family were forced into helping the Dark Lord, evidence that may or may not have been fabricated. However that didn’t mean he was welcome back into the public eye, or hunted by those he had sold out.

Lucius Malfoy had grown bitter, and cold. He couldn’t sleep at night, living in constant fear that those far more loyal to the Dark Lord will find him, and make him rue ever running away. Terrified of his own shadow, Lucius thought that he’d never escape who he once was. So, when the Dark Mark on his arm started to trouble him again, burning as though it had been held over flames, he was more afraid now, then he had ever been.

What did it mean? Surely he wasn’t coming back?

Worrying about his own woes had grown so prominent in his mind, that it overshadowed even the birth of his child, happening in the room beside him.

He rolled his sleeve up, and traced his fore finger over the fading ink. Lucius could swear he could hear the Dark Lord’s cackling, almost a whisper in his ear, sending chills up his spine. The snake appeared to have withered away, thinner and feeble looking.

Pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, Lucius had retreated so far into his own thoughts, he didn’t notice a little boy tugging on the hem of his raven coloured cloak. He slid his sleeve down immediately, flinching. Looking down, his curled his lip up at the child, with flaming orange hair, and an array of freckles across his cheeks. He resembled neither his mother or father, though had inherited the same birth condition she had possessed; he was a Metamorphmagus.

“Why is she screaming?"

Lucius removed the boy’s hand, rather forcefully, plucking at his fingers. He had neither the will, or the patience, to strike up a conversation with a six year old. Even if it was his nephew - by marriage.

Turning his back on the boy, Lucius, went to knock on the door, when it swung open before he got the chance.

There, in front of him, stood his sister-in-law. She was clad in an apron, and had crows feet decorating her face. She looked nothing like either of her sisters, save for the eyes, which were a dark hazel. She glanced over Lucius, and beamed at the little boy. He called out to her, calling her ‘grandma!’, and clung onto her leg.

“Teddy’s chose ginger this week, haven’t you?” she said, to no one in particular. It certainly wasn’t to Lucius; he couldn’t care less. “He’s been spending every other weekend with the Weasley’s, I suppose that’s influenced his decision."

“As riveting as this conversation is, may I be with my wife?” Lucius inquired, callously.

Andromeda Tonks tightened her lips into a thin line, and stood to the side, allowing the man through. Inside the room lay her sister, Narcissa, her blonde locks, now greying, stuck to her forehead and the nape of her neck with sweat, and her fair skin was flushed. In her arms, she held a little baby, bundled up in ivory cloth.

Lucius glided across the room, and stood over his wife, looking down at the child.

“What is it?” he asked her, in a tone that one would least expect to hear from a new father.

“It’s a girl, Lucius,” Narcissa answered, with a beam that stretched across her face, causing her to look at least ten years younger. Clearly she was happier about this baby than her husband. Andromeda also picked up on this.

“What are you going to call her?” she called out, as Teddy bound over to greet his new relative. Andromeda had explained to him that this would have been his mother’s cousin.

Narcissa had put a lot of thought into naming her baby, and had come up with plenty alternatives if it were to be a boy, or a girl. She knew Lucius, though displeased about being ‘burdened’ with another child, especially at their age, had been hoping it would be a boy, if they had to have a child at all. However, after raising Draco, letting Lucius have his say about the boy’s livelihood, she had been keeping her fingers crossed for a little girl. One she could have solely to herself. It had been a Black tradition ever since there had been Black’s to name your child after a constellation. Their daughter may bare the surname Malfoy, but she still was a Black, through blood and birth.

“I was thinking Cassiopeia, like the cluster of stars,” she smiled, tapping the nose of her newborn.

“That’s beautiful,” Andromeda agreed, taking her sister aback.

It was out of mere pity that Andromeda had allowed her sister and husband to stay the past few weeks. They’d been moving around the country, never staying in one place too long. When Narcissa had discovered she was pregnant, it had been nothing short of a shock. At forty-nine years old she had never expected to bear another child. Yet there she was, an expectant mother, living out of bags in abandoned castles and - God forbid - Muggle homes. Who was going to take them in, when anyone who had ever meant anything to the family were dead, or in Azkaban, or in hiding too? Narcissa, grasping at straws more than anything, reached out to her sister as a last resort. The rest of their family had long since perished. Maybe it was losing her own child that had made Andromeda sympathetic, maybe it was raising her orphaned grandson. Either way, she took them in. Lucius Malfoy had always repulsed her, his medieval views on pureblood privileges, which the Black family had always upheld, was the sole reason she had been disowned in the first place. Her younger sister, however, had been the only one to cry when she left.

“Cassiopeia Celeste Bellatrix Malfoy,” Narcissa listed, with an air of satisfaction about her.

“You’re going to name this poor child after _her_?” Andromeda spat, furrowing her eyebrows.

“She was our sister, Meda."

“She was a murderer, or did you simply gloss over that fact?” the woman hissed. “She killed our cousin! Killed my daughter, Cissy, my only daughter!"

Narcissa’s eyes softened, and she struggled to find words to string together to express her grief. She couldn’t understand her sister’s pain at losing a child - here she was, just having given birth to her second child - but she too had suffered loss. Despite everything, she had loved her sister Bellatrix, and though she would never condone her past actions, there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t give to get her back.

“Bellatrix was a passionate and loyal woman who fought for what she believed in to her last breath, which is a lot more than can be said about you or your filthy Muggle husband,” Lucius exhaled, as though bored.

“Lucius!” cried Narcissa, hardly believing her own ears. She glanced over at her sister, to see a pool of tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill. She pulled Teddy away from the newborn girl, and clutched him to her person.

“In the morning, I want you both out. I don’t know what I was thinking letting you two back into my home, you’re the same selfish low-lifes who put fortune over family I knew all those decades ago. You can find somewhere else to stay, I don’t care in the slightest where."

Her face falling, Narcissa tried her best to plead with the woman. “Meda, please, we have a baby - "

“Who I give my deepest condolences to, having you two monsters as parents. First light, and you’re to leave. Or else I’ll personally send word out to all the Death Eaters who evaded death, and the law, do I make myself clear?"

“You foul, cowardly blood-traitor - "

“Do I make myself clear?” Andromeda called, raising her voice to drown out Lucius’s own.

Narcissa, wiping away her tears, trying to hold herself together, nodded. Andromeda then left the room, but not before Teddy escaped her grip, and planted a kiss atop of the little girl’s head. “Night night, Cassie,” he whispered, in that kind of whisper that’s not really a whisper only toddlers do.

The woman then left the room, swiftly, without saying another word to anybody. Lucius merely gritted his teeth, cursing the estranged Black sister under his breath. Looking over at his wife, who was now weeping, rocking baby Cassiopeia, he thought about saying something, anything that would comfort her. Then the pain shot up his arm, and he decided against it. He crossed the room and approached the door, with the aim of packing his bags ready for the next day, when Narcissa called out to him.

“What are we going to do about the baby?” she asked, in a small voice. She’d been worrying for months, and months, but now it was real, now she was holding her, and they had to do something, set something down in stone.

“What about the baby?” Lucius sighed.

“Everything, Lucius! We can’t raise her in hiding, we can’t care for her when we’re forever looking behind our shoulders,” she exclaimed. “What about when she turns eleven? What about school, what about magic? Is she ever going to learn?"

Then Lucius turned to look at his wife, and in that moment she wondered why on earth she ever married a man so cruel. The dim lights in the room cast a sinister light on his sullen face, and his eyes held no emotion, no feeling. Then he grinned, a grin that could only be described as nefarious.

“You should have considered this before you had her,” he hissed.

“It takes two to have a child, Lucius, do not try and pin this all on me!"

“Who insisted we kept her?"

Narcissa didn’t know how to reply. She didn’t think she had to. It’s not really a question she believed needed answering. She had wanted a daughter, ever since she was a little girl and old enough to dream. Lucius was contempt with a boy; after all, he needed an heir, didn’t he? That was twenty-four years ago. Narcissa was being given the opportunity of a lifetime, she’d be a fool to give it up. Given her current circumstance, it wasn’t the complete dream she’d wanted, but it was being granted all the same.

What kind of a person tells a mother she shouldn’t have had her child?

And what kind of woman marries this person?

Lucius bound over to his wife, and brought his face close up to her ears, so close she could feel his coarse stubble grazing against her cheek.

“Listen here, alright? She won’t ever go to Hogwarts, she won’t ever get to own a wand, she won’t ever get to perform magic. She’s going to stay indoors, with us, where she’s hidden. Nobody will know about her, not the Ministry, not the school. She will follow my terms, or else she can find somewhere else to go. She’s been born, but she won’t get to live. That’s down to you."

What Narcissa should have done was leave that night, without her husband. She was never a Death Eater, she didn’t bear the mark. Her and Cassiopeia could have disappeared, and they would have been alright together.

But she stayed.


	2. dreaming of death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cassie is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i couldn't wait! i had to post this new chapter. i'm too excited about this.
> 
> enjoy!

* * *

_11th of August, 2020  
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, U.K._

Cassie dreamt about death again.

Screaming, shrieking, blood, pain, suffering. It was the same every night. Jets of emerald green and vivid reds would soar past her, as she walked aimlessly through a battlefield, or watch the life seep out of countless bodies, or hear the eerie cackle of somebody actually taking pleasure in the surroundings. There’s nothing she could do. She wanted to help; her fingers were itching to curl around her wand to fight back, but of course, she didn’t possess a wand. Nobody in their right mind would ever sell a wand to a Malfoy nowadays. How Scorpius managed it . . .

Then she awakes.

Cassie shot up, entangled in her sheets, a cold sweat encumbering her entire body. At a loss for breath, her fingers were trembling. She didn't dare close her eyes, afraid the images will flood back, so instead she fixated her vision on a portrait across her room, a portrait of a jewel of a boat struggling on treacherous seas. It was moving, of course, her father wouldn’t 'besmirch the great and noble House of Malfoy with _muggle_ art', despite her many pleads that he shouldn’t be so pretentious.

Her journal was on the bedside cabinet, and she reached for it without hesitation. The lavender scented candle in her room had long been extinguished, however dawn was fast approaching, a warm, apricot glow peeking through the curtains she'd once again forgot to close. Flicking to the page marked by a single swan feather, which was revealed to be a quill, she dipped the tip into the small supply of ink she also had on the cabinet. She scribbled away, in messy, chaotic scrawl, using notes only she understood, making it truly only decipherable by her own eyes.

Contained in these pages, these crisp, cream pages, tainted with ink blotches and innumerable stains from tea, tears, and due to the occasional paper cut; blood, were the secrets woven through Cassie's mind, corrupting and contaminating her sleep. Anything she could remember from the moment she regained consciousness, she recorded.

An hour or so is how long she was writing for, noting down every detail. Unfortunately, she never saw faces, so could never pin down who’s who in her dreams. Just when the ink started to run thin, a _crack!_ filled the ethereal silence. She flinched, despite being just as familiar with that sound as she was with her own breathing. However, though the noise had taken her by surprise, the sight didn’t. At the foot of her queen sized bed, stood a dishevelled looking house-elf, with pointed ears larger than her tiny doorknob sized face, and glassy silver eyes. Adapted to fit her tiny frame was a tattered cinnamon brown sack that had once carried apples instead.

“Good morning, Io,” Cassie smiled, wiping the weariness from her eyes, looking up from her journal for the first time since opening it that morning.

“A very good morning it is, Miss Malfoy,” she beamed. It’s an oddly adorable kind of smile, one that only Io could pull off. She walked forward, on her bony little legs, and procured from behind her back a poorly wrapped gift, no bigger than the palm of Cassie’s hand. The recycled piece of string tied carefully, but messily, into a bow on top, reminded her of what the day was. “Happy birthday, miss."

A wave of sickness washed over her at the thought of turning sixteen, though as quick as it appeared, it disappeared, when Io smiled once more.

“Thank you, Io,” Cassie told her, truly meaning it.

She opened it, aware of Io’s bright, brassy eyes following her every move. Nails tearing at the paper, paper she recognised as a drawing she had created some twelve years before, which she had gifted to her father. She held it out in front of her, looking upon a picture of her four year old self, clapping as her father protruded snow to fall out of his wand. It had been crumpled, torn apart, and then stuck back together with spellotape.

“Where did you get this, Io?” Cassie asked, glancing over at the house-elf, feeling tears prick the backs of her eyes.

Sheepishly she looked down at her feet, shuffling, fiddling with the hem of her sack. “Io hopes you won’t think bad of Master Lucius, but Io found the drawing in the bin a couple of months ago, with many others. Io couldn’t bare to see Miss Malfoy’s work wasted, so Io took them. Io didn’t mean to disobey - ”.

“No, no, it’s alright Io,” Cassie muttered, smiling despite her despair. “Thank you. Really."

Io grinned, and for a second she looked not like a house-elf, but a child. Cassie turned her attention back to the present in her hands, and noticed that it was a teabag. She was taken aback by it’s plainness, and simplicity. The eagerness in Io's expression told her that she had chosen this particular gift with care and precision; she knew Cassie loved tea, so she gifted her with a teabag. It’s exactly what she wanted in the mornings, which Io would know, as every morning she was awoken by a mug made by her.

Cassie didn’t say anything for a while, and this worried Io. She squirmed anxiously again, and reached across Cassie to take the present back, fearing that she did not want it. “Io is very sorry, Miss Malfoy, she thought that you would like it. Io can’t afford much, nothing really . . . "

Instead of letting her take the gift back, Cassie knelt down to the floor, and wrapped her arms around her tiny frame. There’s nothing Io could do, as her own arms were already outstretched. Burying her face into the crook of Io's neck, she held her close. “I love it,” she whispered.

Breaking away, she could see tears welling up in Io’s round eyes, and she stretched forward and dabbed them away with her thumb. Io smiled, tilting her head, and was about to say something, when they both heard her father’s voice echoing throughout the manor, calling to their house-elf. She disappeared in an instant, leaving Cassie alone on the floor in her room.

Getting back up to her feet, she crossed the room to her window. Looking out at the grounds, the vast amount of green laid out before her, she’d never felt so suffocated. _Green, green, green_. A constant reminder of their heritage, of what being a Malfoy entailed. Resourcefulness. Ambition. Cunning. Self-preservation. All traits that, in her family’s case, required putting your own flesh and bone first, with disregard for anybody else. It was daunting, knowing that when it came down to the wire, her father had chosen to put his faith in a man so purely evil, who had decided that in his quest for world domination, he’d risk splitting his soul into seven - ultimately eight - halves. What kind of megalomaniac does that?

Cassie supposed this was why she wasn’t looking forward to turning sixteen. A teabag may not be the most lavish gift, but it is certainly the safest. For her brother, he received a Dark Mark. The same can’t be asked of her, of course, but she never knew what to expect when it came to her family, besides the worst.

Walking over to her closet, she saw that she was only in an oversized black knitted jumper that emphasised the silvery blonde hair she possessed. She ran her fingers through it, sighing. It was long, down past her chest, and wavy. Not straight, like her father’s, but curly and winding, untameable. It fell about her face, bouncing. Her mother liked to remind her that though her locks were blonde, a trait she almost certainly developed from her father’s heritage, the curls were well and truly those of a Black. In particular, her late Aunt Bellatrix. Her eyebrows were a chestnut brown colour, to add to the frustration of it all. Her skin was porcelain, almost, not exactly the colour of milk, but pale enough.

Slipping on a silk, ivory gown, instead of dressing appropriately, she made her way over to the door, and threw it open, and descended the stairs.

Awaiting her at the foot of the steps were two people she adored more than most, and that was her brother and her nephew. Each of them bore the same trademark Malfoy hair colour, and the same sterling, iron-wrought eyes. Draco’s hand was coiled over Scorpius’s shoulder, but he retracted once she greeted them, to allow Scorpius to throw his arms around her. The two year age gap between them meant that she had grown up more like a sister to him, than an aunt. Last time she had seen him was Christmas, and that had been eight months ago. He was just as tall as her now, perhaps even an inch taller, a fact he was eager to flaunt.

“I knew it! I knew I’d be taller than you Cassie!” he jested, with a wide grin that extended to his eyes.

“Yes, well, I’m still the better looking Malfoy, won’t you agree Draco?” she teased, biting her lip, as had become a habit over the past few years.

Draco smirked, planting a kiss on her forehead. “You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you little sis?” he retorted, his voice soft, and playful.

“You have to see what we got you for your birthday,” Scorpius told her, grabbing her wrist and dragging her into the lounge. “Don’t listen to dad, I chose it myself. He was going to get you some stuffy old suitcase, but I reminded him you were turning sixteen, not sixty."

Cassie chuckled, turning to glance at her brother over her shoulder. She couldn’t help but notice how weary he was looking, how exhausted. “Eh, sixty. That’s your next birthday, isn’t it Draco? Sixty or seventy, I always forget,” she joked, effortlessly causing him to smile. She couldn’t do much to help, locked up inside the manor, but she could make him laugh, and she had always believed that laughter was the best medicine.

“I was forty in June, as you are well aware of, Cassie, seeing as you were the one who convinced Scorpius to chip in and buy that zimmerframe for my birthday gift,” Draco recounted, pursing his lips, though a grin was threatening to spill.

“Ah yes,” she nodded, as Scorpius and her shared a look. “Next year it’s that mobility scooter.” She winked at Scorpius as he snorted with laughter, Draco rolling his eyes at the pair of them.

“Don’t listen to your aunt, Scorpius, she doesn’t know what she’s saying. Being cooped up inside has done funny things to her mind."

With that, Draco twirled his finger around his ear, motioning to his son that Cassie had indeed lost her mind. Of course, it was all in good nature, and she loved the back and forth repartee the three of them shared. It was uniquely their own, and something she longed for, in the times she was alone in the manor.

“Only thinking of you, big brother,” she sighed, kissing his cheek, as Scorpius searched for her present, checking his pockets over and over with a furrowed brow. As her nephew was distracted, she reached out and squeezed Draco’s hand, comfortingly. _You alright?_ she mouthed, to which he merely nodded. It was short, and courteous, and proved to her that he certainly was anything but alright. _Liar_ , she replied, but left it at that. She knew the last thing he wanted to do was discuss his current feelings, in front of his son. They’d all lost someone they held so very dear the previous year, and it had left deep scars on all of them, in completely different ways. Scorpius found solace with a friend from school, and buried his time and thought deep with work. Draco, however, didn’t have that luxury. The war didn’t leave him with many friends. Astoria had been his little slice of happiness.

“Here’s one of them!” Scorpius cried, holding up a little gift box, wrapped far more delicately than Io’s had been.

“It’s certainly not a suitcase,” Cassie said, with a grin, as she took the present from him, shaking it almost comically.

“I told you, it’s better,” he assured her.

Before she could open the gift, the door to the lounge swung open, and there stood her parents, looking happier than she had seen in a long time. Her mother had tears spilling across her thin face, a face that had aged gracefully. They were tears of joy, Cassie hoped, as she crossed the room to plant two kisses on her daughter's cheeks. Her father was stood behind her, arms folded, with a grin decorating his lips, lips usually stern and stiff. He seemed far too pleased for it to be anything good.

“My darling little girl is sixteen today,” her mother cooed, holding Cassie’s face in her hands. She had turned sixty-five earlier that year, but her good looks remained in tact. Her eyes, a striking teal colour, softened only when she looked upon the three of the younger Malfoy’s. Cassie supposed she maybe had looked at her father like this, once upon a time, but that was a long time before she was born. “You know, I thank the stars everyday for giving us you. My sweet Cassiopeia."

Cassie kissed her cheek, lingering for a while, until she pulled back, and wiped away somebody else’s tears for the second time that day.

“Morning father,” she said, turning to the greying man in the corner. Her tone had clearly cemented, colder, even, but she doubted he even noticed, let alone cared.

“What a morning it is, Cassiopeia,” he replied, remaining where he was. She didn’t mind; she was well trained not to expect physical contact from the man. “Are you not going to open your presents?"

She glanced over to where a small, and she stressed the word small, pile had been created, more than likely by Io, of gifts. She counted five, six if you counted the box in her hands, and seven if the teabag was included. _One more than last year_ , she was quick to realise. _Who’s the new one from?_

Cassie started with the one from Draco and Scorpius. The box was green velvet, and inside it held a beautiful emerald ring, wrought from a silver metal, and adorned with black gems. Her father was very keen to point out it bore the Slytherin colours, and that she should wear it with pride. She instead ignore him, and smiled warmly over to her brother. She then picked up another one from the table, the writing atop almost as messy as her own, and recognised it instantly as Draco’s old friend, Vincent Crabbe. It was just a card, with twenty Galleons inside. She reminded Draco to tell him she said thank you, and he nodded. He knew that she wasn’t a particular fan of Crabbe.

Next was a book, a Muggle book no less, from her aunt Andromeda. She had yet to meet her properly, and from the stories Draco told her, that was a long time off. Apparently, Aunt Andromeda and her father didn't see eye to eye, and she had kept her distance ever since anyone could remember. However, she still sent her niece a present every year, whether it was out of pity, or a sense of duty, nobody could be sure. This year, it was _Gone With The Wind_. Her father turned his nose up at the gift, as he did with anything that wasn’t made or invented by wizards. Again, she ignored him.

The next present came from Scorpius, and she was pleasantly surprised to see that it was a Holyhead Harpies jersey.

“Not just any jersey, it's Ginny Weasley’s. She’s the best in the league,” Scorpius informed her, but he didn’t need to. Cassie knew exactly who Ginny Weasley was. Her favourite player of her favourite sport; a fact Scorpius was well aware of. She shot him another wink, and began to fold it to put beside her, when she noticed her father clenching his jaw, undoubtedly at the mention of a Weasley. She was starting to grow sick of his arrogance, thinking that he had the authority to turn his nose up at her presents, and that she was going to care in the slightest about his opinion.

“Is there going to be a single present you’ll approve of, father?” she asked him, bluntly, half hoping for a reaction out of him. To her shock she garnered one, but not the kind she was wanting.

“Oh, I think you’ll find that the small one I gave my counsel on,” he replied, with a certain smugness she loathed about him. Her mother shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and refused to meet Cassie's eye. “Now, open the big one first. That’s from your mother and I."

Hesitantly, she picked up the box that was about the size of a sink, but weighing less than a bag of sugar. Lifting the lid, her breath was taken away by the sight of a delicate, ivory lace dress. Setting the box down, she peeled the dress out, gently, afraid that the subtle fabric would unravel in her hands if she moved too quick. Her eyes roamed every inch of the beautiful garment, drinking in the image of what she would look like in it.

“Oh, mother, it’s wonderful, just wonderful,” Cassie gasped, leaning over to wrap her arms around her, still holding onto the dress. “I’ll go upstairs right now and try it on - ”.

“Not today, Cassiopeia. That dress is for . . . a certain, _special_ day,” her father drawled, in that complacent tone of his that irked her so much.

Unwillingly, she slowly put away the dress, not wanting her fingertips to part with such soft material. “Fine. Another day then. I’ll just open this last one, and then I’ll grab some breakfast, I’m starving."

“Again, Cassiopeia, why don’t you wait to open that one later. In fact, I’m positive he’ll be here to give it to you very soon."

Looking between the little box, and her father, Cassie furrowed her eyebrows. There was no name on the package, so she hadn’t the faintest idea who it could be from. Thorfinn Rowle, maybe, who like her father had narrowly escaped permanent incarceration. However, he hadn’t been by the house in years, so she doubted he’d even remember her name. Possibly Yaxley, though he was rumoured to be back in Azkaban.

“Why can’t I open it myself now? I am more than capable of opening a box, father, or were you not aware that I could complete such mediocre tasks without magic? I can blow my own nose too, if you’d like to see."

“Hold your tongue,” her mother hissed, sharply, though Cassie know she was scolding her before her father had the chance to. He had a far nastier way with words, and a much lower tolerance. If anything, her mother had done her a favour. “I’ll call for Io to bring you some breakfast up whilst you are changing, our guests will be arriving shortly."

“And please, Cassiopeia, make yourself look in the slightest bit presentable? Or else you may give the impression you are in fact one of the house-elves, and not my daughter,” smirked her father, as she walked past him. Cassie looked up into his steel grey eyes, only to be met with coldness and astringency.

“Oh but father, the way you treat me, I may as well be one of the house-elves."


	3. masters selwyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cassie receives some shocking news for her birthday.

* * *

Cassie narrowly escaped her father’s wrath, and bolted up the stairs, a smirk playing on her lips.

Breathing a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her, she ran a hand through her wild locks, pushing the odd strand off her face. She threw open the cupboard doors, and ran her finger across the array of clothes in front of her. She was fortunate enough to have parents who hadn’t stepped foot inside her room since she was probably around five, so they hadn’t the faintest clue what type of outfits she had stashed away. Of course they’d seen her in jeans, and jumpers, a fact her father was once again disapproving of, but given that she was rarely allowed out of her house, they didn’t fight her on wearing what she wanted. However, on the unlikely occasion they had company - that didn’t include Draco and Scorpius - she had to make an effort, and wear wizarding clothes.

That didn’t mean she had to try.

Cassie picked out a black and white striped shirt with short sleeves, and a pair of blue denim mom jeans. Her hair wasn’t even worth the hassle, so she instead decided to just leave it natural. As she was slipping on some socks, the familiar crack! echoed around the room, and she smiled before looking up, smelling the warm, buttery toast.

“Hi, Io,” she greeted, taking the cup of tea off the tray she was handing her.

“Hello again, Miss Malfoy,” she replied, sweeping low into a curtsey as she set the tray down. “Io hopes you had a good morning so far?"

“It’s been . . . as expected, Io,” she answered, knitting her eyebrows together. “Thank you for breakfast."

“Io heard you have guests coming, Miss. Io wants you to know that though she’s forbidden from giving her masters orders, Io does not want Miss to feel like she’s doing something she doesn’t want to."

Cryptic as her message was, Cassie didn’t get a chance to ask her about it, as she Disapparated, undoubtedly answering somebody’s call downstairs. That call happened to be the sound of the knocker, bouncing on the panelled front doors. She gave herself once last glance in the mirror, and made her way downstairs. Her mother gasped before she could see her face, and her father hissed at her to get changed. A vein had popped out on his forehead, and his grip on his walking cane, which no longer sheathed his wand, tightened. She was saved from his scolding when the door was pulled open, and Io stood to introduce the visitors.

“Master Aled Selwyn, and his son, Master Rhys Selwyn, for you sir,” she piped up, unable to look in Cassie's direction.

Cassie watched as Aled’s eyes glossed over her brother and nephew, stopping for a fleeting moment on her mother, then passing over her father, and landed finally, on her. He was a stocky man, not at all lean and towering, like Lucius. His hair had remained a sinister shade of raven black, and his unforgiving eyes were so dark they could have been considered raven black too. He was dressed in crisp cut, tailor made robes, again, black, and not an inch of skin was showing save from his face and his hands, which were coarse.

His son behind him didn’t look half as stern as his father, instead he had a face that was more fitted to the term architecture, with sharp, angular cheekbones and curving lips etched permanently into a smirk. Rhys’s hair was just as dark as his father’s, his eyes too, giving the impression his figure was cast in shadows. His arms were locked behind his back, and he stood with a posture that told of years of training.

Cassie, on the other hand, stood, leaning against the bannister, one forefinger absentmindedly tangled amongst her locks. Her jaw dropped when she spotted the son, but she was quick to close it, aware that everybody’s eyes were on her.

“Cassiopeia, look at how much you have grown since we last met,” Aled spoke, in an accent so heavily Welsh, it was rendered almost incomprehensible.

“We’ve met before?” Cassie queried, standing up right, cocking an eyebrow. If they'd met before, then she immediately knew that he couldn’t possibly be anything but affiliated with the Dark Lord.

“Yes, you were Rhys’s playmate when the pair of you were younger. Last time we saw you, you must have been four years old. Rhys was seven at the time."

As he spoke she looked over at the boy in question, who, after doing some simple maths, she noted that he wasn’t a boy, but nineteen years old, and a man. Rhys’s eyes locked with hers, and Cassie wasn't sure if she should look away, or match the fierce intensity in his eyes. Instead, she turned to her brother, who was watching the scene unfold with thin lips. Whatever was happening before them, he was already one step ahead, and didn’t particularly like it.

“It’s strange, Lucius, I’d have thought seeing as though Draco here bears a striking resemblance to you, I’d have assumed that Cassiopeia would have taken after Narcissa,” the man explained, looking her up and down, his eyes seemingly picking her apart. “But the girl looks more like Bella than either of you. Save for the white hair of course."

Lucius and Narcissa didn’t quite know how to react to this, as both of them held Bellatrix with quite high regard, but was it an insult or a compliment when somebody tells you your daughter looks nothing like you?

“Rowle said the same,” her father told him, through a forced grin.

Aled, sensing Lucius’s discomfort, gestured to the lounge, where the door had been left ajar. “Shall we go and take a seat?” Her mother, knowing full well that he did not like to be told what to do in his own home, jumped in before he could, and sent Aled a wide smile, nodding. Even into her old age, Narcissa was an extremely elegant woman. Her choice of pristine, silver robes only brought out the teal in her eyes, and when she smiled, she looked twenty years younger.

She and Aled led the way into the lounge, Lucius gritting his teeth behind them. Draco took Scorpius’s shoulder, smiling down at him, and followed his father in, leaving Cassie and Rhys to bring up the rear. She was close enough to him to smell the oaky scent that encircled him, and his elbow knocked hers. Tall as she was, he had a good four inches on her.

“I don’t suppose you remember me, do you?” he asked, composedly.

Cassie shook his head. “Which is odd, as you’d think I would remember the faces of people who come to this house, seeing as there have been so few,” she pointed out, half to him, half to herself. “Plus, I ought to have remembered the accent at least."

Rhys smiled, slyly. He reached up to undo the top brass button on his black waistcoat, which contrasted with the white, long sleeved linen shirt. “Well, I personally could never forget this hair,” he told her, his eyes roaming over her features. Then, he turned his attention back to her face, and she felt a heat creep up her neck, induced by his sudden scrutiny. “Did you always have this many freckles?"

“The sun brings them out,” she replied, painfully aware that her voice had dropped in volume slightly.

“Oh, so Mother Gothel does indeed allow Rapunzel out of the tower?” he teased, his tongue running across his teeth in a smug kind of way. Cassie had to admit, she hadn’t expected a man so good-looking to be much else, let alone quick-witted. She enjoyed his analogy, especially his referral to what she could only hope was her father, as _Mother Gothel_.

She sniggered, and took her seat next to him on the sofa, to her left, Scorpius. “Baby steps,” she fired back, purposefully under her breath this time.

The pair of them looked up, to see her father and Aled in a heated discussion, which she could only assume was about the two things the Malfoy’s held in high esteem above all else; money, and reputation. Lucius was looking rather drained of colour, and she suspected Aled was swindling him into a deal he did not agree with.

“I told you, twenty should about cover it,” he hissed, barely moving his mouth.

“These are difficult times Malfoy, especially for men like us. You must understand - ”

“Understand what? That I’m being tricked into foolishly giving away, more money than she’s worth I might add, all because of a mistake you made - ”

“A mistake _I_ made? Oh, we are in the same boat, you and I, except I have a son to consider, you a daughter."

“Don’t talk to me as if I am to, in some way, _relate_ to your piteous - "

“I think you’re confused, Lucius. It is not I who fled the first time it looked rough, it is not I who sold out my fellow brothers in arms, it is not I who has been refused pardon from the Ministry, it is not I who had their wand snapped before them."

“It is not I, Aled, who showed up on your doorstep twelve years ago, begging for help. You know that my bloodline is purer. It’s either my daughter, or a Weasley, and do you really want to risk spoiling - ”

“Fine! We’ll stick to the terms first agreed!"

The two men turned, and were greeted by everybody's eyes, watching them intently. Narcissa, ever the obeying housewife, averted her gaze elsewhere, whilst Cassie hadn’t the want or the care to be so gracious.

“What were you on about, father?” she inquired, knitting her brow, wondering why on earth she had been brought into the conversation. They had been discussing her as if she were some sort of livestock they were bartering over, and she deserved to know why.

Both of them looked at her as though she was some piece of the furniture that had all of a sudden spouted eyes and the power to speak, which on the odd occasion, did happen in their house. Her father merely leant forward on his cane, jaw locked, whilst Aled beside him folded his arms, possibly resisting the surge to hex, maybe even resort to punching, Lucius - she knew she'd had the same urges.

“Isn’t it time you gave Cassiopeia her gift?” Aled said, motioning with his eyes for his son to pick up the lone box on the table. Rhys conceded, and stood up, the pressure on the sofa shifting. With an inquisitive fervour, Cassie watched as Rhys unwrapped the present, which she thought odd seeing as that is usually the job of the person receiving the gift, not giving. He had quick hands, and nimble fingers, and she couldn’t help but spot his muscles tensing and flexing underneath his shirt as he did so.

He then lifted out a hand to her, which she took with some apprehension, and positioned her directly opposite him. The box was small, resembling the box Draco had given her earlier in the sense that it too was an emerald velvet material. He then proceeded to open it, and as the light reflected off the diamond inside, she gasped. Not because it was beautiful, or because it was what she had wanted, but because of what it signified. What it was meant to symbolise.

An engagement ring.

“You can’t be serious,” Cassie muttered to Rhys, searching his face for some kind of celebratory smirk or smugness for tricking me so awfully, but she saw nothing but sincerity, and sobriety. “Oh my . . . _you are_!"

She backed away a little, turning to her mother for guidance. Narcissa couldn’t seriously expect her to give this man an answer, could she? This man she'd known all of five minutes. Instead, she found that she was picking at her nails, determinedly not giving my eye contact, her posture rigid.

“I was betrothed to your father when I was only thirteen,” she told Cassie, in a distant sort of voice. “To ensure our bloodlines remained pure. Your Aunt Bellatrix was your age."

“So this a betrothal, is it? I have no say in the matter, whatsoever?"

“No,” answered Lucius, in a tone that told her he wasn’t to be budged.

“I’m sixteen! Newly sixteen! Do you not understand how ridiculous this is?"

“You aren’t to be married, my dear, until you turn eighteen, at the least,” Aled informed her. Though he had called her _his dear_ , his demeanour was anything but friendly. His eyes had narrowed, and his knuckles were whitening. “If you’re to bear an heir, than you must at least be of an acceptable age."

“Oh, so this is more like the chain, and the ball comes later? Seems reasonable,” she spat, sarcastically. Her frustration was building up the longer she felt as though nobody was taking her seriously. This time she stared Rhys straight in the eye. “You’re fine with this? You’re fine with them pushing us into something we haven’t got a single say on?"

He didn’t speak for a while afterwards, and she was confident that he was on her side. That was, until he opened his mouth. “I believe in preservation of heritage. There are sixteen known pure-blood families left, and there are only two daughters of suitable age. Victoire Weasley, part-veela, with a werewolf for a father, and you."

Cassie was stunned. Truly stunned. Did bloodline truly matter to him that much that he was simply settling on the only pure-blood witch, of age, left in the world?

“Glad to know I was your first choice,” she joked, at a loss for anything else to say. This only angered her father further.

“This isn’t a matter to be taken lightly, Cassiopeia!” he seethed, gripping the snake figurehead on his cane a little too tightly. She feared that it would snap off any second.

“No, no, father, you’re right. We’re only talking about handing over your teenage daughter to some stranger to be wed, as though this were medieval times, and completely natural!"

Draco stepped behind her, and placed a hand on my shoulder. It seemed so foreign, when she realised that he didn’t seem at all shocked by what was unfurling around them. Scorpius beside him seemed to reflect her horror perfectly on his face, eyes wide, and mouth hung open as if he were going to cry out at any moment. She was glad that somebody else was as clueless as she was to the whole situation.

“Cassie, please calm down - "

“Calm down? You knew, didn’t you Draco! How long for now? A few days? Weeks? Months?"

“Years,” he replied, in a soft voice, that was almost drenched with sympathy. She didn’t want his sympathy, though, she wanted his support.

“Years!” Cassie spluttered. “How many?"

“Since you were four years old and Rhys was seven,” repeated Aled, any former pleasantries evaporated. “This isn’t a good time, I can see. Perhaps a few more days so you can mull it over, and we’ll be back to sort out the formalities - properly, Lucius."

With that Aled left the room, stooping low however, to kiss Narcissa’s hand goodbye. He waited in the doorway for Rhys to follow him, his travelling cloak billowing, the draft from the front door blowing through; Io was as alert as ever, and had already gone to open the door for the guests to exit. She now understood her ambiguous and equivocal teaser earlier, and appreciated her words more than ever, though she would have liked for Io to give her some warning beforehand.

Rhys pressed the ring into Cassie's palm, with that almost infuriating smirk on his face. “I'll await your answer,” he whispered, as though he didn’t already know she had no choice but to say yes. He then leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek, that took her by surprise, and retreated after his father.

Cassie couldn’t escape her own father’s temper this time, as he crossed the room and was upon her as quickly as the Selwyn’s left. His bony hand caught a grip of her arm, nails consciously or subconsciously digging into her bare flesh, he gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring.

“You disgraced us today, you ungrateful brat,” he hissed, still loud enough so that the rest of the family could hear. “Nearly destroyed everything I have worked towards to ensure that this family is redeemed and redefined as the finest of the wizarding families, you spoiled, selfish - "

“Father, that’s enough,” Draco interrupted, seeing that he was now drawing blood from skin, and hot tears in his sister's eyes. Cassie was glad he noticed, as her mother still wouldn’t look up at her, feigning more interest in her nails than in her own daughter. Lucius let her go, unwillingly, shoving her aside. He then stormed away, muttering to himself, most likely heading for his study. He would stow away for hours on end in there, plotting and scheming, though more often than not, cursing Harry Potter for bringing the Malfoy’s downfall.

Cassie regained her balance, and looked down at the ring in her hand. Silver, with a large, clean cut diamond in the centre, it was everything she had hoped to receive from a man who loved her. From a stranger, however, not quite.

“Cassie, I’m sorry - "

“Sorry about what, Draco? That you never thought to tell me that for the past twelve years I’ve actually been promised to some pure-blood, who’s practically a stranger? Or, that you sat there and watched our father barter with said stranger’s father, over how much money he was going to receive once I've wedded, and bedded, his son?"

He couldn’t answer, and it’s exactly what she had assumed. She scoffed, shaking her head at him, and turned to leave, not without tossing the ring to the floor.


	4. more like a brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cassie bonds with her nephew, who's really more like a brother to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for cassie, this is who i imagine; https://www.instagram.com/p/BTJypAtjTqy/?hl=en&taken-by=pixielott
> 
> for scorpius, this is who i imagine; https://www.instagram.com/p/BhMdH1phouj/?taken-by=troyesivan (i mean, who doesn't?)
> 
> and for everyone else so far, just imagine the actual actors who played them in the films, but obviously like twenty years older.
> 
> thank you lovelies!

* * *

Infuriated. Enraged. Seething.

Cassie hadn’t thought it possible to loathe her father this much until that morning. Trading her to some man in the hopes that the money and the name would be enough to raise his stature in the Ministry again. He was deluded, completely deluded. They didn’t live in an era where the woman must produce an heir if the family was to have any hope of continuing on the bloodline, even if Lucius was convinced they still did. Pure-bloods were rare these days, and they had about as much luck keeping their blood unspoiled as the Malfoy's did ever being welcomed back into society with open arms.

On her birthday, of all days. He had to go and ruin her birthday. The last year was a travesty in itself, with the death of Astoria so close to Cassie's fifteenth, the entire mood dampened by her dreadful departure. None of them had felt like celebrating. The year before hadn’t been awful per say, but she didn’t think a lonely fourteenth spent with just the house-elf for company could be classed as remarkable, however much she was fond of Io. Every other year before that had been spent in a different hiding place. The valleys in Wales, a creek up in Yorkshire, hillside in Suffolk, and a cavern in Cornwall, to list a few.

This birthday, this one topped them all. Topped every catastrophe, every disaster, every calamity. Her own father decided on a husband for her, fourteen years before her wedding was even legal.

Cassie turned to escape up the stairs again, but thought against it, and decided to give Lucius a piece of her mind. She wasn’t capable of keeping it bottled in. She had to burst, she had to rage and rant to him. He had to know how disgusted she felt at being bargained and bought like some kind of slave.

She didn’t bother knocking on his door, instead choosing to force the door open. Where he had been pacing back and forth he jolted, and stared directly at her, aghast, appalled that she dared disturb him.

“Do you know how cheap you made me feel earlier?” Cassie demanded, tensing her entire body, blood boiling.

He sighed. He had the audacity to sigh in front of her, as if her opinion of her own engagement was a mere drop in the ocean to the pile of problems he seemed to have been acquiring since the summer of 1998. Or really, since he considered having a permanent snake design branded into his skin a brilliant idea.

“Trust me, you weren’t cheap,” he reminded her, maliciously.

Cassie tightened her jaw, and clenched her fist so firmly, she was certain she’d drew blood.

“You will marry the man, Cassiopeia, and you’re foolish if you think that you’re going to convince me otherwise. The Selwyn’s are wealthy, and have been pardoned by the Ministry. We have not, therefore to unify our bloodlines, we will give the Ministry further reason to pardon us too. So, as I said before, you will wed Rhys. That is your service to this family."

“Your Elizabethan ideology is pathetic,” she spat at him. “I don’t think you heard me before father; I am not going to marry anyone, for as long as I am a Malfoy, nobody is going to want me. Not really, not truly. You made perfectly sure of this when you pledged your allegiance to some power-crazed, egotistical, self-serving psychopath, and doing so you dragged our name through the mud, pulling Draco and I down with you. Who’s the spoiled and selfish bastard now?"

No sooner had the words spilled over her lips, did she feel the sting of his hand across her cheeks. The noise echoed before she felt the pain, but boy did she feel it. She was glad she could feel it, as it served as a reminder whenever she forget who her father _really_ was. She smiled at him, as viciously as she could manage, the whole left side of her face prickling. He seemed unnerved by her reaction, undoubtedly expecting her to break down, or beg for his forgiveness.

“There’s the father I know,” Cassie whispered.

Then she left, oddly calm. She returned back up to the confines of her own room, breathing a sigh of relief she wasn’t aware she was keeping in.

Cassie perched herself on my windowsill, bare feet dangling down, her heels occasionally grazing the brick wall. Below her laid the cobbles, and the odd dandelion, craning it’s neck to bathe in the scorching summer heat. The sun was completely in the sky now, not partially hidden by some faraway horizon, and closing her eyes she felt the rays kiss my skin. She always liked this kind of weather; hot enough to do pretty much anything you wished outside, sunny enough to pick up some colour on her painfully obvious porcelain complexion, warm enough to just relax. If the temperatures were to hike any further, than it became too humid and too uncomfortable to bear a minute outside, not unless you enjoyed the sensation of fabric cemented to flesh with gallons of sweat. She wasn’t a huge fan.

Freckles always seemed to be brought out in sunlight on her face. They danced across her nose, and cheeks, never straying from the path. She liked them, as nobody else in her family had them. Narcissa, however, would never miss a chance to tell her how undignified they were.

She was enjoying the feel of basking in the summer’s sun, when she heard the door swing open. Fully prepared for the onslaught of accusations with an artillery of quips, she instead heard Scorpius’s voice call to her from across the room.

“You might fall,” he warned her, though she could tell he was smirking. “What will they say once you’ve split your skull on the pavement?"

“Your father will say _‘better her skull than the man who tries to make her his wife’_ ,” Cassie retorted. “And my mother will say _‘we can’t bury her in those clothes’_."

Scorpius snorted with laughter, as he crossed the carpet to join her at the windowsill. She undoubtedly had the best view in Malfoy Manor, with the Wiltshire Downs rolling as far as the eye could see, the emeralds and the chartreuses and the mosses all blending into one breathtaking collage of green. The sun would rise in-between the two solitary trees that sat perched on the small hilltop, and she could watch it ascend into the sky every morning, if she wished.

“I didn’t know, about the Selwyn’s,” he informed her, after a while of staring at the fields. “About any of it, really. Nobody tells me anything."

“You and me both, kiddo,” she sighed, and leant over and ruffled his hair, the same silvery blonde she possessed. As she took a hand off the windowsill his eyes widened, afraid she really would plummet, and she chuckled at his paranoia.

“You don’t like being cooped up in here, do you?” he asked, as he looked intently at her. She tilted her head, and his eyes widened when he saw the mark left on her face by Lucius’s hand. Clearly there must have been a mark, whether it was bruised or simply just red she didn’t know.

“What gave you that impression?"

Cassie was teasing him, but she knew he was trying to be serious.

“I’d give anything for you to come to Hogwarts with me."

Her heartstrings were tugged at the gesture, which she fully believed he meant. “That’s sweet of you,” she said, with a smile. It was a sad smile, because as much as his words were lovely, that’s all they ever were ever going to be; words. Nothing could be changed about the school’s opinion of her. “But you know that I can’t. I’ll just have to live through you, if that’s alright? How many days until you go back now, twenty?"

“Twenty-one,” he nodded. “You really would love it there. It’s every bit as magical as you’d think, and just as great as you could possibly imagine - times ten.”

“Times ten? That’s quite high. You sure it’s that great?"

“Oh Cass, you have no idea. Someday I’ll show you."

“Deal. You can smuggle me in through Pigsmeade."

“ _Hogsmeade_ , it’s _Hogsmeade_ , Cassie!"

Grinning, she jumped down from the windowsill, back into her room. The carpet felt soft underfoot, and her cheeks were tinging slightly. Downstairs she could hear doors slamming, and she knew that meant her mother had tried to coax Lucius out of his office, with no such luck. Grinning despite herself, she sat down on her queen sized bed, the plain, ivory white duvet as delicate to touch as feathers. Scorpius sat himself down next to her, fiddling with the slightly too long sleeves of his jacket.

“You don’t have to dress like them,” she told him, sweeping her hair off her face. He didn’t meet her eyes. “You’re a Malfoy, that should be enough for them."

“I’m not like you, I don’t want to challenge anybody,” he sighed, in an unsteady kind of voice. “I haven’t got the guts too."

“You’re a Slytherin right? Well, that doesn’t make you afraid, or cowardly; it means you’re cunning. You’re not opposing them, because you worry you’ll end up like this,” she assured him, gesturing to the mark across her cheek. He glanced up, his silver eyes grazing across her battle wound.

“Father doesn’t mind so much, though he wouldn’t encourage it. Mother, now she liked that I wanted to be my own person."

“Your mother was a real gem, kiddo. Better than the rest of us that’s for sure. I admired her so much. She wasn’t stuck-up like some of them are, nor as arrogant, or prejudiced. She was nothing but warm to me. You remind me of her. You’ve got the best bits of both of your parents, and I all I had to inherit was a surname and blonde hair."

Scorpius was watching his aunt carefully, and his lips curved into a smile, that struck her so much, because the resemblance between him and Draco was uncanny. He took her hand in his, their fingers curving together. She had never once felt like she was his aunt; the age gap between them was far too small. During the first years of their lives, they hadn’t had a chance to meet much, but when she permanently moved into Malfoy Manor, their encounters became frequent, and soon they bonded much more than had been expected. He might as well have been her little brother.

“Can you do the . . . _thing_?” he inquired, a grin playing on his lips. It was cheeky, and she enjoyed this side of him. She liked to assume that she was the one who brought it out in him.

Cassie squeezed his hand, and then let go, holding out her palm in front of him. She looked around, doing the obligatory check that nobody was lurking in the doorway, and bit her lip. If she was caught doing what she was about to do, she’d receive much worse than a slap across the cheek.

Scorpius was holding his breath, his gaze intently on her hand. She clicked her fingers, causing him to flinch slightly, and then he released a gasp of astonishment. Appearing from nowhere, a spark was ignited in her palm, and a small fire was crackling there. She could see the bright oranges and red flickering and reflecting in his eyes. Bringing her hand up to her lips, she blew, ever so slightly, and the little ball of fire shot out of her grip, where she caught it with her right. She then swirled her finger through the fire, and slowly it started to turn to water. The droplet floating ominously in her palm earned a quiet cry of delight from Scorpius - he hadn’t seen this part of the act before. She’d learnt it only recently, as it was in the last few chapters of her battered copy of _Naturale Sorcerye: Elementes and the Essentiales_ , and had been perfecting it before she was to showcase it to him. Tilting her hand, the water began to trickle, and she motioned for Scorpius to open up his own hand. Willingly, without hesitation, he did so, and she poured the water into his palm, where it transformed into icicles the second it touched his skin. He laughed, holding up the icicles to the light, where the sun glinted off of the little tips.

“Nobody at Hogwarts can do that,” he told her, shaking his head with bewilderment. “I don’t even think Professor McGonagall knows how to do this - at least not without a wand."

She ruffled his hair again. “You’re just easily amused,” she waved off, though his words brought her great comfort. Maybe she didn’t need Hogwarts to make her a witch. Glancing out the window, into the back garden, she could see the broom shed calling out to her. Grinning, she nudged Scorpius, who was transfixed by the icicles still, and pointed towards the garden. His eyes met hers, and she knew that they were on the same page.

Cassie snuck out the window faster than you could say Quidditch, shimmying down the drain pipe that lead from past the windowsill, to the cobbles below. Having escaped from her room a hundred times this way, she was more than capable of clambering down, whereas Scorpius was a little more cautious than she. He took his time, with her guiding his footing from the floor below.

However, they'd both got their feet on firm ground soon enough, and were racing across the pitch to where, fortunately, the broom shed has been left unlocked. She grabbed the broom that she'd begun to call her own; a Nimbus 2021, which had been all the rage seven years ago. Scorpius chose the much more sensible one, a Cleansweep.

Kicking off of the ground, she was in the air before Scorpius, eager to feel the breeze on her face again. Her nephew joined her, clutching the Quaffle under his arm. You can’t really have a proper game of Quidditch with just two players, so they settled for tossing the ball between them. It was a riskier, more adrenaline-filled game of catch, she liked to think.

He was actually quite good, performing manoeuvres she had yet to see anywhere else. “And tell me why you have yet to try out for the house team?"

Even when he was hovering a good few feet above her, she could still see his eyes roll. Hell, she had taught him to roll his eyes. “I don’t want to, simple."

Sensing his discomfort at discussing school sports, she tried her luck with a different topic. “So, humour your auntie; is there anyone at school you have your eye on?” His usually porcelain skin flushed a deep scarlet, only confirming her suspicions. “You do!” Cassie gasped, and immediately flew up to join him. “You’d tell me who, won’t you?"

He snorted, and she realised that she was going to have to work a little bit harder if he was ever going to tell her who this mystery girl was.

“Oh come on, kiddo, you know I won’t tell - who have I got to tell? And anyway, it’s not as though I’m going to know who it is anyway, or be able to confess everything to her, am I? I don’t go to school with you lot. She’ll never know. Please, I’m curious."

She could see his little engines whirring, his mind ticking over the possibility. He was chewing on his lip, and sighed. Cassie grinned - she had cracked him. She leant forward, comically, on the broom, careful not to tilt it, and put her hand under her chin, glancing wide-eyed up at him.

“Fine. But you can’t tell father, and definitely not grandmother and grandfather, alright?"

It was never not going to be strange hearing somebody refer to her parents as _‘grandfather and grandmother’_.

“Sure, because they’ll be the first people I’ll entrust a secret with,” she retorted, sarcastically, then pursed her lips together when she saw the exasperated look on his face. “No, don’t worry, I swear it’ll stay between us."

He seemed satisfied, and scooted even closer, afraid he’ll be overheard.

“Rose Granger-Weasley."

At first she was convinced it was a joke. She was milliseconds away from laughing, when she noticed that he was deadly serious. He was looking at her, innocently, with the exact same kind of expression he would use when he was little, and asking her if sheI wanted to play with him, or read to him, and her heart melted. She felt both overwhelmed with love for the youngest Malfoy, and pity. He clearly liked the girl a lot, or else he wouldn’t have risked mentioning her, and that was adorable in itself. However, just like their last name branded them as political traitors and monsters, Rose Granger-Weasley's casted her as a blood traitor _and_ the daughter of a Muggleborn, a cocktail far too despicable in Lucius’s eyes. Draco, however much he had changed over the years, especially since the war, would never accept the fact his son fancied a Weasley. The rivalry between the two men was far too thick to even bear considering forgiveness. Plus, she bore _her_ name. How would Draco react to hearing her name after so long? Scorpius wasn’t aware of his father’s affiliation with Rose’s mother, and she presumed to believe that Draco would have kept his secret till his dying day, if she hadn’t had read between the lines.

“I can’t help it, Cass,” he sighed. “She’s ambitious, she’s smart, she’s kind."

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?"

“The prettiest."

Cassie smiled at him, and he smiled back. She could see the frustration dancing in his eyes at the mere mention of this girl, as there was not a family member who would support the relationship, besides her. However, she could also see his adulation of her, and sometimes that was all you needed.

“You have to make me a promise, kiddo, okay? Promise me that when you next see her, you’ll not hesitate, not even think twice about it, you’ll simply bound over to her, look her square in the eyes, take her hands, and tell her how you feel. Don’t leave a single thing out, or else she won’t think you’re committed. Then, ask her out. If you’ve done it right, she’ll be swept off her feet, and will be thinking that she’s never met a boy like you, and that she must say yes right that second."

“But what if she says no?"

“Then she can’t be as intelligent as you say she is,” she replied, quick-tongued.

They were both in fits of laughter when Narcissa’s voice called up to them from below. Not only did she bring them down to the ground, she dragged their spirits too, informing them both that Scorpius and Draco were leaving.


	5. i'll see you on the 1st

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cassie receives some more unexpected visitors who bring with them more than an engagement ring.

* * *

As angry as Cassie was at Draco for withholding such a momentous secret from her, she hated watching him go. He hadn’t been expecting her to hug him, and part of her didn’t think she was going to. However, her arms were around his neck soon enough, and he held her back, tightly.

“I love you Cass,” he whispered into her ear.

“Still pissed off,” she replied, and pulled away. He was smirking, and it took all she had to not break the stern expression she had plastered on her face. She turned to Scorpius, who was beside him, and they hugged too. Next time she would get to see him would be Christmas, and that was four months away. Too long, if you asked her. Shame nobody does ask.

“Remember, don’t do what the teachers say, don’t do you homework, stay up _especially_ late every night, only eat the bad stuff, bully everyone and anyone who’s not a Slytherin, and if a stranger offers you an equally strange concoction you must _always_ say yes; got it?” she teased, painting on as serious a look as she could muster.

“Remind me again why you’re supposed to be the responsible one?” he laughed, sweeping his hair off of his face.

“I’m not - that’s Draco’s job,” Cassie replied, and gave him another hug, not wanting to part with him. “I’ll see you when you get back kiddo, okay? Have a good time, and hope everything goes _according_ to plan."

He flushed pink, and Draco narrowed his eyebrow, looking between the pair of them, but didn’t press. Scorpius hugged Narcissa, and she kissed the top of his head. He went to hug Lucius, but then at the last minute decided against it, and shook his hand instead. His grandfather seemed satisfied with his parting, no matter how abrupt it was. Waving at them, with them both waving back, they soon were gone with a resounding crack!, allowing the departure of Narcissa and Lucius to go about their business, leaving her alone in the doorway to stare at an empty courtyard.

Cassie sighed, and took her time closing the door. When she shut the raven coloured mahogany door, she therefore began the arduous task of growing older in a house she despised, with a father who despised her, and a mother who despised what they'd become. She didn’t particularly enjoy living in a house filled filled with so much loathing.

However, she must, or else she’d be stuck hovering in the doorway forever. With a heavy heart, she stepped inside, and pushed on the brass nob, the click telling her the door was firmly sealed, sounding eerily like the sound of a prison cell.

Dragging her feet behind her, she began to walk through the entry hall, and ascended the stairs for a third time that day, when no sooner had she shut the door, somebody tapped on the knocker.

Puzzled, but eager to know who was behind the panelling, she raced to the door, assuring Io, who had appeared to do her duty, that she was alright to open it. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it Io. It’s probably Scorpius again, you know what he’s like, might have forgotten something - "

Swinging the door open, she quickly realised that it wasn’t her nephew, but two figures she’d seen only in the papers, and a third she didn’t recognise, though felt as though she should have. Her jaw dropped, and Io, who was peering around her leg, her tiny hands clutching onto her knee, gasped. She could feel her little body trembling beside her.

“Io, do you mind fetching mother and father?” Cassie muttered, not taking her stormy grey eyes off of their visitors. “They might want to come and greet our guests."

A few minutes later, after cloaks had been hung and tea had been poured, they were all finally settled in the lounge, sat on the weary, emerald leather sofas that stretched across the room. Cassie sat alone, on a chair cut from the same material, whilst her mother and father sat together. The Headmistress of Hogwarts, the Minister for Magic, and an unknown man with a thin face and mossy green eyes, all sat huddled on the one sofa. It was an odd sight, to say the least. The Headmistress, according to Scorpius, must have been at least eighty-five, was sandwiched in-between the Minister for Magic, and the stranger, both who were around forty. All of them were simultaneously taking sips of their tea, the two youngest guests refusing to meet the eldest Malfoys' eyes.

The Minister, Hermione Granger, was a very beautiful woman, that much was clear. Her hair was wispy, and the colour of her tea, and tied back nicely. Her eyes were a darker shade of brown, but warm, and kindly. Her willowy fingers grasped hold of her cup in her hands, as she nervously glanced around, occasionally tugging at her cardigan, as though she were cold. The goosebumps on her skin were visible.

Why was she so nervous being here? Why did it look as though she’d rather be anywhere else, but in this room? Was it Cassie, was it their family? Was it the rift between her and Draco? Surely she wouldn’t know how sorry he was, how much he regretted his actions from his younger years, especially those directed towards her . . .

“What is it you have come to see us about, Professor?” Narcissa asked, when the silence started to grow ridiculous, a smile far too wide to be genuine. Lucius was seething far too much to even utter a word. “Anything we may do for you?"

“Merlin, what makes you think we require something from you, Narcissa?” Professor McGonagall answered, looking almost appalled at the prospect. “No, no, we’ve come for that one.” She pointed with a bony finger towards Cassie, who furrowed her eyebrows, barely aware all eyes were on her.

“Me? Why?” she inquired, feeling her heart hammering erratically inside of her chest. She wasn’t guilty of anything, at least not to her knowledge. Surely she was not punishable for all of her parents decisions? Hadn’t she suffered enough?

“Are we correct in thinking it’s you sixteenth birthday today?” chirped up Mrs Granger, her voice still oddly quiet. Cassie nodded. “We have a gift for you, if you’d just like to take it . . . there you go.” She handed her a letter, addressed with just her name, _**Cassiopeia Celeste Bellatrix Malfoy**_ , scrawled delicately across the parchment. She turned it around, and gasped when she saw the Hogwarts seal. Looking up at Mrs Granger, then up at Professor McGonagall, then finally at my parents, who she could see were both regarding the letter with equally venomous stares, she proceeded in beginning to open it, when her father’s hand shot across and landed on her own, firm and severe.

“Cassiopeia, dear, don’t you think you should let your mother and I open it first? You never know what may be contained inside,” he said, slowly, in a forcibly sweet yet sickening drone that wasn’t fooling anybody.

“If I’m fortunate, it’ll be a long lost section of Astoria’s will, informing me that she’s left me a house, where I’m welcome to live, free from your prying eyes,” she spat back, yanking her hand back. He gritted his teeth, a vein popping out of his forehead.

Cassie continued opening the envelope, where she was left stunned by the words inked on the letter inside. She read it once, going so fast she was surely susceptible to whiplash, and then rereading it over and over again, ensuring that she hadn’t been mistaken.

**Dear Miss Malfoy,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**

**Term begins on 1st of September.**

**Yours Sincerely,**

**Neville Longbottom  
Deputy Headmaster**

The letter slipped from her hands, which had gone numb, and into her lap. Hungrily, Lucius snatched away the letter, and scanned it scrutinisingly. Narcissa was reading it over his shoulder, her eyes like pinballs rolling back and forth in her head. She looked back over to their three guests, who weren’t watching the pair of them, but Cassie instead. 

“This is . . . an insult on our family, Minerva! You arriving here with the blood-traitor Longbottom and that _filthy_ \- " 

Cassie and the other man were on their feet before Lucius could finish the sentence, fuming. His hatred of Muggles and Muggleborns was not only ridiculous, but spiteful and cruel. She couldn’t believe his audacity to speak to not only a Muggleborn so bluntly and harshly, but one whom was their Minister. As she had expected, he looked ferocious that she had stood up, quite literally, to him in front of guests, as his vein made another appearance. 

Lucius wasn’t the only one surprised. The man, Professor Longbottom she assumed, and Mrs Granger, were looking at her with such bewilderment, she knew that neither had expected her to differ on such matters. McGonagall, however, was grinning from ear to ear. 

“There, it’s settled. Miss Malfoy may attend Hogwarts this year,” she said, clapping her hands down onto her knees, as though that had sealed the deal. 

“But, how will she catch up? She will be joining at sixteen, everybody else will have had six years there already,” Narcissa pointed out, trying to sound as though she was thinking of her daughter's welfare only. 

“Something tells me that Miss Malfoy here is more than capable,” Professor McGonagall replied, with a knowing twinkle in her eye. 

“You still don’t look satisified, Lucius?” Professor Longbottom asked, regarding him with complete disgust. His name struck a chord with Cassie, recalling something she had heard from Draco. If she was mistaken, they had attended school together, and the man before her was another one of the poor students who had suffered at the tongue of her brother. She immediately felt guilty, though she had not been alive at the time to do anything about the issue. 

Again, Lucius was far too furious to speak, and relied on his wife to plead his case. “What about a wand? She does not own one, she has been forbidden . . . " 

“Cassiopeia will be pardoned fully by the Ministry, as she would have done sixteen years ago, if you had not hidden her away,” Mrs Granger answered, somewhat more assertive than before, but still rather timidly. It was as though she were afraid he would pounce any second. Cassie didn't blame her at all; she was on the edge of her seat too. “She will be allowed a wand from Ollivander’s." 

Fully convinced she was having a dream and that the awful events of the morning hadn’t happened, she shook her head and pinched her thigh, waiting to wake up. When nothing occurred, and she remained perched in her seat, she couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. 

“I’m going to be given a wand?” she inquired, not believing her words at all. 

Mrs Granger nodded. “After the Ministry discovered your existence when you were nine, I fail to see why you weren’t pardoned then. You weren’t born during the war, and have had nothing to do with those dreadful events. However, I’m concerned that many who work there still fear your name." 

“How has Scorpius been able to attend school then?” Cassie pointed out, more curious than accusatory. 

It was Professor Longbottom who answered. As one of his teachers, she supposed he knew best. “It wasn’t with ease, I must admit. As you know your brother hasn’t been pardoned either, and will not be allowed his wand back. However, unlike your own parents, he did not send the acceptance letter back when his child was eleven years old. He and Astoria were more than complacent to have their child arrive at Hogwarts." 

Confused, and feeling betrayed, Cassie knitted her eyebrows together. “But I thought that it was the child’s choice whether they wanted to go to Hogwarts or not?" 

At this, both Professor Longbottom and Mrs Granger looked almost ashamed, then remembered whose house they were in, and whose side her family had fought for, and they stiffened their expressions. 

“Due to the nature of your case, Miss Malfoy, we didn’t push for a change of heart,” he told her, with thin lips. 

Her heart sunk, and she was left feeling even lonelier than before. “You lied to me,” she muttered, than repeated myself, louder, glaring at both of her parents. “You lied to me. You told me that they never sent a letter, that I wasn’t even welcome there. I didn’t have to be trapped here for the past five years. I could have been enjoying myself, learning, and receiving an education, millions of miles away." 

The truth was, Hogwarts didn’t want her either. They weren’t willing to fight for her, leaving her to grow up in a house she would never call a home, whilst everybody else her age was free to learn. 

Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes, but Cassie was determined to not cry in front of her father, let alone her new Headmistress, and the Minister of Magic. 

Narcissa went to open her mouth, but words didn’t escape her. She couldn’t think of what to say, couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough, or convincing enough. Good, Cassie didn’t want to hear any more lies coming out of her mouth. 

“I’m going to go to Hogwarts, if you’ll have me, but on the condition Draco is pardoned too. My nephew was pardoned, why shouldn’t he be?" 

“I’m afraid that the decision regarding Draco’s crimes is final,” Mrs Granger said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. Why? 

“Please, you must understand he was young. He didn’t want to disappoint his family, and felt forced into something he never once wanted to be a member of. Never once has he harmed anybody, and didn’t play a single part in the Battle of Hogwarts, good or bad." 

“I had friends die in that Battle, and you think we should pardon your brother because he stood by and watched?” Professor Longbottom spluttered, his voice rising, until he was quietened by the Headmistress, who shot him a silencing glare. 

“He had friends die too, and family members. I’m not saying what he did do was right by any account, but never once did he physically serve the Dark Lord. He merely was pressured into attending the gatherings, and branded with the Dark Mark, against his will. Ask anybody in Azkaban what Draco Malfoy did for their cause, and they’ll spit at your feet and tell you nothing; that should be the justification you need to pardon him. If genuine, convicted Death Eaters are certain that my brother did not help them, or their master at all, then what are the crimes against him? Bearing a tattoo that Severus Snape, a man who I believe worked for Dumbledore's side after all, also possessed? If that man was allowed a wand, much less a position teaching hundreds of children, then why is Draco still seen as a criminal in the eyes of the Ministry?" 

When she finished she was out of breath, blood boiling under her skin. Lucius and Narcissa, who she was certain she would not going to defend in her speech, were watching her with agape mouths and wide eyes. Professor Longbottom and Mrs Granger looked just as astonished as they had earlier, whilst Professor McGonagall was once again beaming at her. 

“Miss Malfoy makes a compelling case, Hermione,” she grinned, addressing her former student. 

The Minister seemed to agree. “I’ll look into the terms of his conviction, though I’m certain that it can be overturned,” she assured her, with the smallest hint of a smile. Cassie expressed her gratitude through her features, understanding completely and all at once why Draco felt the way he did. 

As Professor McGonagall and Hermione began to sort all the arrangements out with Narcissa, as Lucius had slithered back to his study, she was left combing through everything with Professor Longbottom, who was to be her new Herbology teacher. 

“Seeing as though all of your subjects this year will be new to you, I, along with many of the other Professors and several students, have agreed to tutor you. However, I stress that you must be willing, and compliant in your studies, or else you can come straight back here, alright?” he told her, sternly. He was very stiff, and didn’t smile at all. She supposed it was his loathing of her family that seeped into how he approaches her, and she didn’t hate him for it at all. 

Cassie nodded, hoping that by appearing keen and eager, he would see that she really was grateful to be given this opportunity. 

“Good. Now, here’s a list of books I’d like you to read before you arrive at school. It’s long, but manageable. I’m sure Hermione would be able to plough through this all in one sitting." Nine volumes, that was all it was. All exploring the basics of magic, she suspected that the first years would be expected to purchase the same books. 

“I’m sure I’ll be more than able to work my way through this list before the start of term; there’s not much else here to do other than read." 

Glancing around the room, he sighed. “Oh, but of course, the horrors of living in a house so vast and illustrious.” He sounded almost bored, and not at all piteous. Not that she wanted his pity. 

“I’m not like my brother,” she told him, forcing him to meet my eyes. He must know that she was not going to make the same mistakes. 

The man seemingly searched her eyes, waiting to see if she was going to tell him she was joking, or trying to find those telltale signs of somebody who was lying. Clearly, he found nothing. 

“Has anybody told you that you look like your aunt?” he finally said, and there was a certain sadness to his voice that she couldn't explain. She knew he meant Bellatrix, due to the amount of photographs they had dotted around the house holding her portrait. 

“Just this morning, actually,” she replied, exhasperated. “I think it’s the hair." 

He stood up, smoothening down his cloak, and wents to take his leave, to join the other two, when she found that she couldn't let him simply walk away. 

“I do appreciate this lifeline, you know. It’s so much more than I deserve, coming from a family like this. I’m not going to waste it." 

“What do you know of her? Your aunt, I mean." 

It was odd, how quick the transition from stone faced teacher to anxious schoolboy was made, but she saw the shadow of his former self flash across his features, exactly how Draco had described him to her. 

“I know she was a Death Eater. I know that she was the Dark Lord’s most faithful servant. I know that she broke out of Azkaban and joined him when he rose. I know that she was by his side when he fell." 

“Do you know why she was in Azkaban?" 

She shook my head. It’s not that she hadn’t asked, it’s simply that she hadn’t received an answer. 

“When was the last time you left this property?” he asked her, curious. 

“I was nine,” she admitted. 

“Then you’re in for a real shock when you join the real world. Your parents have kept more from you than an acceptance letter. I’ll see you on the 1st." 

The Minister and her new Headmistress then rose to their feet, and passed them on their way to the doorway. Professor Longbottom joined them, nodding his head towards Cassie, as they approached the hallway. Io was waiting for them, holding the door open. Mrs Granger glanced piteously at the house-elf, than back at Cassie, and her dark chestnut eyes immediately fill with sadness. She was aware of Mrs Granger's efforts for the protection of magical creatures, such as house-elves, and she immediately felt guilty. She personally had made sure that nobody under their roof laid a finger on Io, but she had yet to free her, which would have been a much greater kindness. She supposed she was selfish, and did not want to live in Malfoy Manor if she didn’t have Io there, to smoothen the path. 

The three of them shook her hand, Professor McGonagall wishing her luck, and then turned to take their leave. Acting on an impulse, Cassie reached out and placed a hand on Mrs Granger’s elbow. She whipped her head around, wide-eyed, and tilted her head. 

“Draco’s biggest regret was that he wasn’t brave enough to stand up to father. If he had, things might have gone differently for him. For one, he wishes he hadn’t listened to him when it came to matters of blood. Then maybe he would have been nicer to you, because he truly does believe that you didn’t deserve any of the nasty things he ever said or did." Cassie's voice was low, as to stop others from overhearing, though she suspected that by the look in Professor McGonagall’s eyes, she had heard every word. 

Mrs Granger looked more than taken aback; she looked as though she had been slappedin the face. Then, as if being slapped again, she plastered on a thin smile. “I hope Hogwarts is everything you hoped and more, Cassiopeia. It was for me." 

Her sentence hung in the air, as the three of them disappeared with a resounding _crack!_. 


End file.
